Page 20 of A Rogue in Twilight
“I feel like Cinderella about to get a slipper.” She giggled, then reached for the whisky glass and downed the last drops. Then she slipped her skirt hem over her ankles, mucky folds covering his hands as well. “The ankle is just twisted. I can manage. My home is only eight miles from here. I should leave before dark.”
“Eight miles!” He looked at her, incredulous. “You walked eight miles to get here?” He ought to ask why she had been in the garden at all.
“Not so far a distance in the Highlands. I was heading to my cousin’s home, just three or four miles from here. I will go there instead of back home tonight.”
“You should not be walking anywhere just now.” He still held her foot under the hem of the gown—it felt improper and exciting—nor did she protest. “Your ankle is swollen, Miss MacArthur. Bandaging will help support it, but anyone could tell you that you must rest it and avoid walking for a while.”
“Perhaps I could borrow a gig or a pony cart from you, then.”
“I can drive you once the rain eases up, but just now, the landau and gig are in use by MacKimmie and the groom, who took Mrs. MacKimmie and the servants elsewhere.”
“Ah. They would be going away just now,” she murmured.
He frowned. So she knew about this too. “I believe there is a pony cart here, or I could take you home on horseback after the storm lifts.”
She looked through the tall parlor window at the lashing rain. “If it ends, aye.”
“It will end soon.” He set her foot on the stool and rocked back on his heels. “Miss MacArthur, there is something you should know.”
“Aye?” She tilted her head prettily, eyes sparkling, cheeks a perfect pink. Was that natural beauty, or a blush from the whisky?
“We, ah, you—we are alone in the house.”
“Utterly alone?” She kept her head tilted—most young ladies would be shocked, but she only seemed curious.
“For a little while. MacKimmie will be back, I think, but the others have gone to visit kinfolk for a few days. And to be honest, some have quit my employ entirely.”
“Perhaps the banshee made them anxious.” Her smile was calm.
“You know about that? Mrs. MacKimmie went to see her daughter for a few days. She left the house in good order with food in the cupboard. A local girl will come in to do chores, perhaps tomorrow. But we are alone for now. I should have said so sooner.”
“We were distracted. So no one will be here tonight, and perhaps tomorrow?”
“Quite possibly.”
“My grandfather is away from home now, and I told our servants I was going to see my friend across the glen. But she is not expecting me. No one knows I am here.”
His heart thumped hard, and a shot of excitement sank through him. He ignored it. “An unfortunate set of circumstances.”
She sat up quickly. “What if it was—a perfect set of circumstances?”
Startled, he shook his head. “Perfectly awkward, you mean. Rest assured that you are safe in my company, Miss MacArthur.”
“I know. But what if—” She leaned forward, silvery-green eyes twinkling, cheeks flushed high. Kneeling so near, James felt the soft whisper of her breath on his cheek, felt the allure of her nearness. “This is a rather compromising situation, you know.”
“Some might think so. But it is not the case,” he said firmly.
“I do not mind being compromised,” she said.
He frowned. What was this? Did she think to catch a wealthy man who would feel obliged to marry her? But he was not wealthy, so she was wasting her time. “You are in no danger here.”
Her smile bloomed like sunshine. Dimples, two impish indentations, flashed at either side of her mouth. Her lips were full, winsome, rosy. He knew their taste—and remembered that he had all but compromised her behind a rhododendrom in Edinburgh.
He stood. “Miss MacArthur, I apologize, but—”
“It might be convenient if a scandal resulted from this.”
“What!” He said it aloud this time. Outrage, even passion, swirled like heat through him. “A rascal might compromise you in this situation. But I am not that sort,” he said firmly. “Explain what in blazes you are going on about.”
